The five remaining rifles were also rested upon the wall, and the five riflemen sought cover behind it. The air was charged with the electricity of a coming struggle; and when the very moment seemed to have arrived, there was a shout from the river, the sound of hoof-beats, and up dashed the chief trapper, Young, and his six buckskinned followers. At the sight of these reinforcements the redskins fell into a sort of confusion. And while this lasted Kit explained the situation to Young. “I don’t think they’ll make any movement against us now,” said the head trapper. “What do you say?” “I think you’re right,” replied Kit Carson. “If they took two days to make up their minds to tackle six men, it’ll take ’em a week to get to the point of facing twice that many.” “Well, by that time,” said Young, grimly, “there will be still more of us; for I mean to break camp, move down the stream, pick up the rest of the boys and then strike for the Gila.” Half the party set to work, adjusting the bundles of pelts upon the backs of the mules; the remainder, with ready rifles, watched the Indians. When everything was in marching shape the trappers started along the river bank. The band of savages followed in their track during the entire day; but one by one the remaining trappers were picked up; and when at last the sun went down it showed the hostile band encamped upon a hillside not more than a half mile away. But now instead of six there were a full score of deadly rifles between them and their prey. CHAPTER VII HOW THE TRAPPERS RETALIATED The Indian band lighted large fires upon the hillside that night; the tall figures of the braves could be seen flitting to and fro in mysterious activity. The trappers watched the unusual spectacle for quite a long time without comment. “They are fixing up some kind of a disagreeableness for us,” spoke old Zeke Matthews, at length. “And I opine, Cap’n Young, that I’d better take a little scout out in that direction and see what it is.” “All right,” said the head trapper. “If you care to take the risk, Zeke, go ahead. But I’m not asking you to do it, mind you.” “I’m going to do this little pilgrimage for my own private amusement,” said the veteran, humorously. “I always did get a lot of fun out of a passel of redskins when they were getting downright serious at their work.” He took up his rifle; and a heavy pistol was stuck in his belt. Then he crept out of camp and away into the darkness. Two hours had elapsed when he returned. He put down his gun and warmed his bony hands at the cheerful blaze. “The varmints are having a mighty interesting time of it,” he said. “That’s a council fire you see blazing up there on the hill; and they’re sitting all around it, smoking their pipes and making speeches to each other. Old Red Cloud is anxious to get his hands on our outfit, I guess; but his braves want to see their way to getting it without being hurt.”